Tears and Stardust, aint life grand?
by kurohime1024
Summary: Lust, love, it's all the same red haze made by rocking bodies and animal instinct.  There is no distinction between the heart's wants, and the body's needs.  He taught me that.


Tears and stardust, aint life grand?

Disclaimer: no, sadly, I don't own any of Naruto, or anything else even related to it…I DO however, own a pair of goggles, which I wear religiously, just because I can…

Here I am, staring out at the rolling waves on this cursed, damn beach. I love the way the waves look so inviting and bright in the blinding light of day, but turn to dark throbbing black things, like the beating of some giant demons heart, under the moon's pale shine.

Why do things always have two sides? It's the dark underbelly of reality, I guess.

A thought flickers in my mind now, like a butterfly in a jar. Furiously, it beats its wings, demanding to be heard.

'_He left,_' the though said. '_He left you here like garbage to be thrown away. You are nothing.'_

Yes, he left me. Used me until it became inconvenient for him, and then walked away.

"We can still be friends," he had said. As if I would want that. As if he would want that either. To hand around him, just one of the many who fell for his charms, and then left behind.

But I was different.

In my heart, I knew that I loved him. I always had. I remember when he first saw me, that summer after going abroad.

Naruto had wanted to meet up at the beach, probably just to show off his hard earned surfer tan.

Poor Naruto, he will never know the true part he played in this tragedy called love.

He introduced me to the friends I didn't know, and let the ones I did gaze at how I'd changed.

Gone was the meek little girl, grown into a beauty.

I won't lie, I was not ugly. The lost time had been good to me, curving my figure, shining my hair, all the tedious things that matter, apparently.

At last, I saw him, my childhood crush. Time had been kind to him as well, hardening his muscles, and later I found, his heart.

His dark eyes scanned me, running over my bikini-clad body as if to say, _this horse is just right for me. I could ride her all day and not even be tired!_

And he did.

Weeks passed as he slowly approached me, his eyes glinting with predatory steel. And I, the willing prey, gladly stepped into his path.

The nights were long. The way he caressed my body, expertly touching every nerve, should have warned me.

But no, I was too blinded by lust. Lust, love, it's all the same red haze made by rocking bodies and animal instinct. There is no distinction between the heart's wants, and the body's needs. He taught me that.

As I stand on this lonely stretch of shore, feeling the sand between my toes, I distinctly recall that never, ever in our "history" had he ever just held me.

After a night of passion so intense, I thought we could exist as one being, he would get out of bed, redress al the once naked parts, the beautiful parts, of his body, and then, as if I were some kind of common street whore, leave me without even a goodbye glance.

Should I be angry? Ashamed? Should I break under this drowning pressure? No. But slowly, the tiny cracks began to build up.

I would cry myself to sleep in the bed where, not an hour before, we had both lain panting in reckless pleasure. Breathing in his scent, straining to catch the fading warmth his body had left behind.

I grew violent. Slashes soon adorned my arms ad wrists, always shallow enough to escape notice by him…or maybe, he just didn't care? That's more likely. Nothing escaped his notice.

Like how I stopped meeting him so often. He must have grown anxious, being without release. After all, who would he brag about if we didn't meet? How could he amuse his friends with tales of my submission and room shaking mans of ecstasy if there was no secret rendezvous?

So, we met.

And, he knew.

He knew the minute his sharp predator's eyes came to rest on my ever so slightly bulging stomach.

I knew that he knew, because he set me with his steely gaze as if to say, _what have you done?_

Funny, how he always seemed to speak with his eyes and his body rather than his mouth.

Funny how I can think that that is funny, when all I really want to do is curl up on this dark, empty beach, and hold my barren womb, mourning the loss of all I had left of him.

He left me completely after that. Avoided me like the leper that I was. And like the man he was, the man I thought I knew, when I finally backed him into a corner, he wouldn't meet my gaze.

I wonder why?

Was it because he was embarrassed by me? Maybe he was afraid he would see the light of his child in my eyes.

Or maybe, he was simply so shallow that when he looked at me, the by now heavily pregnant woman in front of him, when he saw the swollen belly and ugly stretch marks, he could remember being on top of me, letting the beast inside taste freedom in the delicious carnal pleasure, and he was disgusted.

That seems more like him.

I gaze up at the shining moon through angry tears.

Be disgusted, I think.

Be disgusted by what you have done.

I lost everything. Friends became mocking and cruel, enemies became more numerous everyday. No one was there for me, when I needed them most.

So, in the end, I was alone as I sat in the dim clinic, holding my child who never took in a breath. I wished it safe passage to the next world, hoping that it doesn't suffer for the sins of its parents.

My child, an 'it'.

How vulgar. How cruel.

And yet, it feels more appropriate than calling it my son. To think of the life he could have had. A better life, better than his mother, Sakura Haruno, the beauty who lost everything, and better than his father Sasuke Uchiha, the man with everything, but with no heart to enjoy it.

Pray for my son, who I named after his father and the man I loved.

Pray for Sasuke's lost soul.

Pray for my sins.

'I want to see my child' is the all consuming thought as the cold dark waters envelope me, embracing me, allowing me relief from this life that was my hell.

The waves roll.

_To see my child._

The wind blows.

_To see my son._

The night moves on.

_So we might weep for our loss together._

I hope you enjoyed this story, or, in the very least, didn't hate it completely. When you read this, think of all the life wasted with the death of a child, and weep.

-kurohime1024


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